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11.9% Mr. Wilson Touch Me / Chapter 5: 5

Chapter 5: 5

Without answering his greetingwatched him walk away John passes by as if he felt like the owner of my father's company, greets one by one and sits next to my father.

He stands in front of me —Julia, they're talking to you— Matthew says, looking for my lost look.

I direct my gaze to my left side —There I go.

He took me away and I turned aside to greet my father, to take the step I felt as if the floor were infinite like a black hole that I will never be able to step on, I only appreciated how my body moved as if it were above a cloud, I felt the heartbeat My heart is like a rock, it hits slowly but embeds itself in the skin, my blood rises and falls.

I place my arm on the white wall, closing my eyes, breathing out through my mouth, counting to ten to calm myself down, fatigue takes over my body. I walk to the chair that is located in the office, my vision begins to blur again, my skin crawls as if a ghost had passed by, I can no longer stand still, I cross my legs and my sweaty head is leaning on my hands.

I feel a hand on my hair. “Daughter, are you okay?” My father asks, worried.

"I'm fine," I comment, raising my face to look into his eyes.

"You look very pale," he asked, putting his hand on my head; You saw something that scared you.

"Of course not, everything is perfect here," I say, looking at John.

Actually, I just aspire for someone to wrap me in their arms, I'm in a cold sweat, but this is not my lucky day.

My father picks up the phone in his office and dials a number as quickly as possible.

“Estefania, bring me a glass of water, please,” he demands, his body restless, his gaze fixed on me. “QUICK.”

My gaze fell on Matthew, how he watches John with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, his gaze revealing hatred. But why do you see it so much?

"Are you sure you're okay?" Matthew comments, looking at me.

—With a demon, maybe you don't see me—I walk until I am in front of him.

—Well, I see that not.

A hand holds my waist, I can feel light slaps.

—Wake up please—Stutter—the alcohol quickly.

I can hear, why is Matthew saying that when he's here with me?

I open my eyes instantly, he sighs when he sees me react, Matthew finds himself with a cotton ball, his hand still trembles from the moment he lived.

He brings me to his lap like a little girl — Julia, are you okay? - he asks stuttering, finishing the sentence a little scared.

"Mmmm, don't worry," he commented, he didn't want anyone to worry.

Everyone couldn't stop looking at me, I see them in zoom mode as if there was nothing else to see.

She approached me, "Let her breathe, Julia go home and rest, you must be fine for the night," my father inquired, pushing the crowd away from me.

While I recovered, she pushed Matthew's arms away from me. “Where will I go?” she asked, confused.

"They're going to Paris," my father says, extending his hands to lift me up.

The girl runs into the office. “Sir, the glass of water is here,” a dark-haired woman says as she enters.

He gives me the glass —Ok I'll go— I say drinking the water.

Matthew interrupts - I'm taking you, I have to do something - says Authoritative -; My house is close to yours and I don't stray from the path.

Hit the glass with my trembling fingers. “I can take a taxi, you don't have to take me home.” He murmured, with his eyes on the glass: I can go alone.

—No Julia, I'll take you and that's not up for discussion—he frowns.

I get up carefully and walk past him. "Let's go, Mr. know-it-all and bossy," I say, looking at him while raising an eyebrow.

We went straight to the elevator while everyone who was there noticed how we were leaving, some murmur behind their shoulders, and others reign below, I can distinguish every movement and every look, however, I hate being watched; Appreciating those looks fixed on me, that damn feeling of shame and shyness is fucking horrible.

We go down the stairs—Never in your life ever contradict me again—Matthew growls, breaking me out of my thoughts—if I feel like taking you, I'll do it.

I open the door of his car—Understood Mr. Wilson, whatever you order—I whisper, handing him the plane.

Matthew is rushing towards my house and while we were both quiet I started to enjoy the landscape or rather the roads, I am one of those women who loves to think while someone else is driving the car, it relaxes me to do so and I do it every day. no matter what.

Without realizing it, Matthew stops the car and immediately gets out to open the door for me. Without further ado, his hand, which is outstretched, reciprocated and supported me on it so as not to fall.

"Thank you," he murmured as he released her hand.

“It is a pleasure for me to bring you home,” he answers, smiling.

- See you at the airport! —he exclaimed, before leaving.

"I'm stopping by you," he emphasizes, staring at me.

"Okay, but at what time," he comments, while taking steps back.

—The private plane will be ready at 9, I'll pick you up at 8 —he responds—, look very pretty.

He leans on his car with his arms crossed waiting for me to enter my house, I turn around and go inside my home, waiting for a thorough examination and my mother's interrogation with first aid in hand.

The house looks silent, I just lie down on the couch wanting to sleep, but with the terror that I won't be able to wake up, I leave my black bag on the back of it, my eyes scream to be closed so I can forget what happened.

I open my eyes like a cat, slanted without waking up, I turn my face and watch my mother, she always interrupts at the best moments, I was dreaming something beautiful and my mother ruined everything.

"Your father told me what happened to you. Are you okay?" he asks, putting his hand on my forehead to rule out having a temperature.

"Yes mother, it didn't happen any further, it was just a slight fainting," I say, removing her hand.

I go up the stairs heading to my room to take a shower, I immerse my naked body in the tub with the water at medium temperature just the way I like it, I lean my head back.

The cell phone rings and I answer with hands wet from the bath I'm taking.

His voice sounds on the other side. “I need to talk to you,” Mike says, worried from the other side.

I stop my soaping process on my abdomen. “What happened?” I ask, worried.

"I'll explain to you when I arrive, I'm 15 minutes away," he says.


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